


Snake Taming

by Phoebe (Emeraldwoman)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-14
Updated: 2004-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-27 08:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emeraldwoman/pseuds/Phoebe





	Snake Taming

It wasn't fair, Draco reflected. Yes, all right, he had indeed set Potter's hair on fire during Transfiguration. But it had been an accident. Mostly. Well, stepping on the brooch Granger had turned into a beetle had actually been completely accidental, though you'd think he'd murdered a unicorn from the way she'd carried on about it. And then Weasley had delivered some terribly graceless attempt at an insult and Draco had obviously been obliged to have Crabbe throttle him, and then Potter had stuck his broken glasses into the affair and Draco's wand had just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time while he said the wrong words, which had just happened to be...inflammatory.

Really, it could have happened to anyone, Draco thought angrily.

But it wasn't anyone who was about to spend a perfectly lovely Wednesday evening in detention. Especially anyone whose name began with _H_ and ended in _arry Potter_. It was him. Draco sighed and opened the Transfiguration classroom door.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy," Professor McGonagall said, from where she was lounging on her desk, her hair hanging loose over her shoulder. It was the first time he hadn't seen it in a tight bun. "For this evening's detention, I thought we might try something...different."

Something different? Well, in an unfamiliar situation, compliments were almost always a good starting strategy.

"Good evening, Professor," he said politely. "You look good in leather."

Professor McGonagall smoothed down a gleaming fold in the tight corset and adjusted a boot self-consciously. "Er. Thank you, Mr. Malfoy."

"So. What's my punishment?"

Professor McGonagall coughed and slid off the desk, laying down a whip. "Well," she said hesitatingly. "I was...that is.." She drew herself upright. "Tell me, Mr. Malfoy. Do you often...put the Quaffle through the hoop?"

"I play Seeker, Professor," Draco pointed out, his forehead creasing in confusion. Was the old lady losing her memory?

"Of course, of course," she said hastily. "But you do know how to...handle the Quaffle?"

"Well, the basics," Draco said doubtfully. Was she going to make him practice Quidditch? For detention?

"What I'm asking, Mr. Malfoy, is if you've ever...er. Have you ever actually - ahem - caught the Snitch?"

Draco scowled. Obviously, this was a ploy to rub in the numerous victories of her awful Quidditch team and its Halfblood champion. "Well, not in a game situation," he said sulkily.

"Ah?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Although of course I practice all the time," he said haughtily. "I'm very good at catching it by myself."

"But not with a partner?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course with a partner," he said. "Marcus throws the balls for me and I catch them."

Professor McGonagall halted with her fingers poised on a zipper. Draco noticed there were rather a lot of them on the outfit. "Ah," she said. "I'm not quite sure if you understand me. You see, Mr. Malfoy, I am offering you, shall we say, tuition in advanced wandwork."

"Oh," Draco said. 'You didn't say I had to use my wand. I didn't bring it with me." She could have warned him, he thought. Detention was usually much more hands-on.

"Oh come now, Mr. Malfoy... I'm well aware that you've... ahem... scrubbed the cauldron for Professor Snape. This is no different!"

"But I don't need my wand to clean out Professor Snape's cauldron!"

"Don't worry about your wand!" she snapped. "In fact, exactly! Exactly right. We'll be practicing...wandless magic."

"Isn't that very difficult, Professor?" Draco asked curiously.

"Er. No. Very simple. Instinctual, really."

"Like riding a broom?"

She brightened. "Yes! Very good, Mr. Malfoy. Once you first ride the broom you don't forget how." She strode towards him, the stilletto heels of her thigh-high boots clicking on the stone floor.

"But I don't have my broom either!" he wailed. In a blinding flash it came to him. He gasped and backed away from her. "Wait, I understand!"

"Finally," the Transfiguration Professor sighed.

"Yes, I see right through you! You're going to tell me to fly with wandless magic and then throw me off the top of the Astronomy Tower without a broom!" Draco shook a finger in her face. "My father will have you killed for even thinking this."

Professor McGonagall groaned. "I am not trying to kill you, Mr. Malfoy," she said tartly. "Although, let me assure you, it is an increasingly tempting option."

"What are you trying to do, then?" Draco asked suspiciously, still backed up against the wall.

"Let us say I am...putting the charm into Engorgement Charm."

Draco shook his head. "What?"

"Doing the horizontal Tarantellegra?"

"I don't quite follow, Professor."

"Ah...inviting the serpent into the lioness's den?"

Draco's brow furrowed.

"Boarding the Hogwarts Express?"

"You want to _expel_ me?" Draco exclaimed, horrified. "Look, I didn't set him on fire very much!"

Profesor McGonagall cracked her whip in the air, cutting through his protests. Draco squeaked.

"Mr Malfoy!" she snapped. "I am determined to take House unity into my own, as it were, hands-"

"-yes?"

"By having sexual intercourse with you."

Draco blinked. "Oh," he said faintly.

"Although I am severely pondering the wisdom of this choice, since you are without a doubt the least perceptive student I have ever taught," she added, whip quivering impatiently in her hand.

Draco thought about this. "So, you're saying you want to-"

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy."

"With me?"

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy."

"What, **all** the way?"

" _Yes_ , Mr. Malfoy."

Draco eyed her. He did have that thing for older women, which she certainly was. And he also had that thing for leather, which she was certainly wearing. And deep, deep down, he suspected he might have an inherited tendency to follow commands in the hope of fulfilling a powerful person's sick and twisted desires. He shivered a little at the thought. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant shiver.

Plus, there was the whip.

"Well, right you are then," he shrugged, and began shucking his clothes, privately resolving to set Potter's extraneous extremities on fire every chance he got.

House unity. _Right._


End file.
